


Big House, Full Rooms

by holdyourbreathfornow



Series: Family of Three [2]
Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self-Aware
Genre: Bubby and Gordon bonding moments top 10, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Nightmares, Number 8 will make you cry, Panic Attacks, Parental Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdyourbreathfornow/pseuds/holdyourbreathfornow
Summary: Gordon's having a rough night, his nightmares keeping him from sleeping, and it gets worse.Luckily, Bubby can't sleep either.
Relationships: Benrey/Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman (implied), Bubby & Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Series: Family of Three [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918150
Comments: 30
Kudos: 381





	Big House, Full Rooms

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags, I know there's some potentially triggering content here.

Gordon can’t remember the nightmare when he wakes up, just that it has his heart racing in his chest and his mouth dry. He’s half-hanging off the bed with one of Tommy’s arms thrown over his waist, the only thing keeping him from falling off the bed completely. Benrey’s rough snoring fills the room and rattles around the hollow spaces in Gordon’s chest.

Gordon sits up and carefully pulls Tommy’s arm off. He freezes when Tommy snuffles in his sleep, but then he turns over and curls up into Benrey and Gordon exhales in relief. 

The wood flooring is cold on Gordon’s bare feet and he steals Benrey’s slippers as he heads to the kitchen. The wind howls outside and the only light in the house is the flashlight on Gordon’s phone, bobbing like some ghostly lantern as he walks towards the kitchen. 

The routine of making coffee helps Gordon calm down a little bit, but he’s done this before, he knows what he’s gonna do as soon as the coffee is done.

The machine hums and Gordon exhales heavily as he fills a mug. 

What happens next isn’t his fault and he knows that. The mug he’d chosen had been in the house for years and in its long lifespan, the handle had come loose.

The handle, however, chooses the worst time to give up the ghost as it separates from the mug itself, sending the ceramic to shatter on the tile floor. 

Gordon doesn’t even notice the tiny nicks on his feet and legs from the ceramic. Instead, he flinches with his whole body and staggers backwards, his slippers the only things stopping him from stepping on more shards, until he’s on the floor, pressed into a corner where the wall meets the countertop. 

He hides his face in his knees, hands going up to fist in his hair as his breath starts hitching, hot tears welling up in his eyes as he hyperventilates. 

“Gordon?” The light overhead flicks on suddenly and Gordon flinches again, whining in the back of his throat as his nails sink into his scalp. “Oh, fuck, Gordon?” Footsteps filter in through the fishbowl of panic Gordon feels like he’s wearing and someone kneels next to him. “Gordon, bud, you gotta breathe.” It takes him a moment to place the voice but when hands gently curl around his wrist, he leans towards the person, letting them catch the bulk of his weight. “Oof.” 

“B-bubby…” Gordon chokes out and Bubby wraps his arms around Gordon, fingers carding through the tangles in Gordon’s hair.

“You gotta breathe, kid.” Bubby mutters, concerned, and Gordon shakes his head, breath coming in shallow gasps. “Don’t shake your head at me, young man, breathe with me. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. Ready?” 

Gently as he can, Bubby takes Gordon’s hand, pressing it to his own chest, and inhales. He feels Gordon start to breathe in as well and the two of them sit there on the kitchen floor for God knows how long.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bubby asks and Gordon inhales shakily before he finally shakes his head a little bit. “Okay, well can we at least move to the couch? I don’t know about you but my kneecaps feel like they’re about to fall off.” Gordon huffs a laugh at that and he and Bubby both stand, awkwardly shuffling into the living room. Gordon collapses onto the couch and Bubby snags a blanket from the pile and wraps it around Gordon until nothing but his face is visible.

“Thanks.” says Gordon, and Bubby nods, fidgeting and tucking the blanket in as tight as possible.

“You used to have this one blanket you always wanted to be wrapped up in.” As he speaks, Bubby snags another blanket and settles down onto the couch next to Gordon, opening the blanket up and laying it over his lap. “I used to wrap you up in it and just… Throw you around. Like a little human football. Made you lose your shit every time.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember anything.” Gordon squirms in the blanket and Bubby reaches out, pulling him into a firm hug once again. 

“Hey, kid, I absolutely don’t blame you.” Gordon doesn’t say anything and Bubby squeezes him. “Listen. As your… As your dad, it’s my job to take care of you. Not the other way around. So don’t feel bad for not being what I want, because even if you’re all grown-up and a real smartass, you’re still the best damn son I could’ve asked for.”

There’s a moment of silence then Gordon’s breath hitches and Bubby panics briefly, thinking he fucked up his big, heartfelt speech somehow, but Gordon just buries his face in Bubby’s shoulder, his shaky smile just barely visible.

“Th-thanks… Pops.”

“‘Course, kid.” Gordon can’t see it, but Bubby has to viciously blink tears out of his eyes as he leans his head on top of Gordon’s. Eventually Gordon starts snoring hard enough to vibrate into Bubby’s bones and he starts dozing as well.

Slowly, the sun rises outside and with it, Bubby hears Harold wake and start moving around, eventually shuffling out into the living room in Bubby’s ridiculously fluffy bathrobe and his own flip flops, curly hair haphazardly haloing around his head.

“Good morning, dear.” Harold whispers, as he takes in the scene. “...Rough night?”

“There’s a broken mug in the kitchen.” says Bubby, and Harold connects the pieces easily enough.

“Don’t you worry about it. I happen to know where the broom and dustpan is.” He pauses and smiles a little wider, noticing the way Gordon’s curled into Bubby’s side. “Do you need a blanket for yourself, love?”

“Damn kid’s a furnace. I’m melting, Harold.”

“I could move him-?”

“No.” Bubby tightens his arm, though not enough to wake Gordon, who’s still snoring. “My son now.”

“Oh, my dear Bubby…” Harold walks over and kisses Bubby, pressing a kiss to the top of Gordon’s head before heading for the kitchen. 

“I think you mean our son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
